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The Three Books 



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Aunt Estes Little Stories of Bi^Daijs 

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THREE BOOKS 

and other 



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Big Day Stories 

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ALBERT WHITMAN COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Chicago 


U.S.A. 



THE THREE BOOKS 
Copyright, 1925, by Albert Whitman & Co 
Chicago, U. S. A. 


Other “Just Right” 
Books by Edna 
Groff Deihl 


Flower and Berry Babies 


Vegetable and Fruit 
Children 


Special Picture Edition 
Size 6x9 

The Little Black Hen 


Send for Complete 
Catalogue 



A JUST RIGHT BOOK, 


PUBLISHED Itf THE U. S. A. 


DEC 19’25 


©C1A875565 



















c l • fmli 9 



A Story for Lincoln’s Birthday. 9 

Prongy Pork’s Valentine. 15 

The Cherry Tree That Never Grew Up. 22 

A Story for Washington’s Birthday 

Why Robin Redbreast Sings at Easter Time. .. 20 

An Easter Story 

The Story Queen Moon Heard. 40 

A Memorial Day Story 


O 









6_CONTENTS 

Page 

Cornflower’s Message. 47 

A Fourth of July Story 

Jenny Pumpkin and tlie Black Witch. 56 

A Story for Hallowe’en 

The Prince of the Kingdom of Thankful. 65 

A Story for All Occasions 

Strutty Gobler. 79 

A Thanksgiving Story 

How the Gnomes Tried to Stop Thanksgiving.. 87 
The Star Angel. 99 

A Christmas Story 

The Story of Baby Gretel.109 

A Christmas Story 

The Three Bells.118 

A New Year Story 













LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR 



My dear Little Friends: 

Here is another book of stories for you! I hope 
you will like this book very, very much, and will 
read the stories in it often. You will like to tell 
them to the other children on the holidays, or on 
special days at school or at church. 

The grown-up people who tell stories to their lit¬ 
tle friends will be glad to have these new holiday 
stories, too! A few of them are in other collec¬ 
tions, but most of them are new—written, especially 
for Y-O-U. 





From “The Prince of the Kingdom 
of Thankful” 






























THE THREE BOOKS 



A STORY FOR LINCOLN’S BIRTHDAY 

“We are the greatest Books of Bookland!” 
said three old tattered books, one day, as they 
huddled in a hidden corner of Library-town. 
“The very greatest! The very greatest!” 

All the other books laughed at these worn- 
looking books! Some of them knew they 
were popular, some were of foreign descent. 

9 


10 


THE THREE BOOKS 


some dated back to the Revolution, some 
were great detective stories, some were beau¬ 
tiful stories of children, and some were so 
full of poetry and song that they could make 
men laugh or cry. 

Yet, in the face of all this, the three worn 
books kept on saying “We are the three 
greatest books in Library-town!” 

Some of the Book folk knew why the three 
Books were so proud, and the ones who knew, 
even though they were Encyclopedias or 
Dictionaries, bowed to them. 

“We are willing to grant that the Bible is 
among the very greatest,” said the other 
books, “But why must we say the same of 
Aesop’s Fables, and Pilgrim’s Progress? 
This we cannot understand. It seems so 




THE THREE BOOKS 


11 


strange that those books are quiet and peace¬ 
ful until February comes around. All the 
rest of the year we do not hear a word from 
them, but in February they band together 
and say ‘We are the three comrades. We 
are the greatest books in Bookland!”’ 

After all, it was an American History 
Book who explained the whole thing to the 
books in Library-town. Early one February 
morning he said to all the books, “If you 
want me to, I will tell you why these three 
books are so proud.” 

All the books were very quiet, and lis¬ 
tened to American History Book as he told 
them this story. 

“In a poor little cabin, on the banks of a 
small stream in Kentucky, Thomas and 




12 


THE THREE BOOKS 


Nancy Lincoln lived. One Sunday morning 
in February a baby boy came to live with 
them. They named him Abraham. Thomas 
Lincoln could neither read nor write, but 
Nancy Lincoln was better educated. She was 
a fine woman, and although she was very 
busy, she taught little Abraham and his sister 
how to read and write. 

“In all his life Abraham Lincoln only went 
to school one year, for he worked very hard. 
He had to walk eight miles to school, and 
often had nothing but corn bread to eat for 
bis lunch. He was very fond of reading but 
he had only three books, the Bible, Aesop’s 
Fables, and Pilgrim’s Progress. These three 
books he knew by heart.” 

“He knew us by heart!” said the Three 




» 













* 








She taught little Abraham 


and his sister hoiv 


to read 








13 




































14 


THE THREE BOOKS 


Books, “And he became the most beloved 
president of our great land.” 

The old calendar on the wall proudly 
showed the red figures “12” on its February 
page. 

The American History Book went on— 

“Now you see why our three book friends 
call themselves the three greatest books.” 

The three proud books drew closer to¬ 
gether, murmuring, “We are the three great¬ 
est books!” 

And this time all the other books of 
Library-town agreed. 

“Let’s give them our best wishes,” they 
said, “For today is the birthday of their great 
reader.” 




PRONGY FORK’S VALENTINE 



A STORY FOR ST. VALENTINE’S DAY 

It was just getting-up-time in Kitchen- 
town. All the Knives and Forks and Spoons 
and Egg-beaters were awaking themselves 
and preparing for their duties. 

The dishes and the pots and pans were 
eager for their morning bath. 

All these folk lived in Cupboard Street, 
but there was excitement in another part of 

Kitchentown, too. The Stove family was 

15 




16 


THE THREE BOOKS 


warming up, and the Spigot twins were 
chattering together. Mother Sink alone was 
keeping quiet, because she always had so 
much to do that she had no time to spare 
with many of the things that interested the 
others. 

“Do you know what day this is?” asked 
Curvey Spoon. 

“Sunday, you simple fellow,” answered 
Pealey Knife. “Sunday, of course. I know 
my days as well as you do. Sunday, Mon¬ 
day, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, 
Saturday—” Pealey stopped, quite out of 
breath. 

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” said Curvey 
Spoon. “This is a very special day. It is 
Saint Valentine’s day.” 




THE THREE BOOKS 


17 


“Saint Valentine’s day? What is that?” 
asked f’ealey Knife. 

“Why, that’s the day you send a pretty 
present, or a card, or flowers, or candy, or 
anything you like, to the one you love best.” 

Pealey Knife blushed. Everyone in Kitch- 
entown knew that he was fond of Prongey 
Fork. Why, every time he had a chance he 
would stay close beside her at the dinner 
table. 

“Why don’t you send a valentine to your 
love?” gleefully said the little Spoon Chil¬ 
dren. “We’ll take it to her, if you will write 
it.” 

“I don’t know what to send,” said Pealey. 
“I never made a valentine in my life, and I 
couldn’t make up a verse if I tried. Some- 




18 


THE THREE BOOKS 


how or other, whenever I try to do or say 
something nice, I seem to cut someone. Peo¬ 
ple say I am so cutting. Even Prongey says 
so. I am sure I don’t mean to be.” 

“I’ll help you,” said the Egg-beater. “I’ll 
help you make a valentine for Prongey.” 

Such a time as there was in Cupboard 
Street that Valentine morning! First Mrs. 
Bowl and the Spoons and the Egg-beater 
were in a group together. Then they called 
in old Mrs. Flour Bucket, and a few Eggs, 
who lived in Pantry Street, and a cup of 
milk from Ice-box Square. Such a beating 
and stirring and bustling as one could ever 
wish to see. 

At last there was a golden colored mix¬ 
ture ready. Then the old Heart Cake Cutter, 




4 



A valentine for Prongy 


19 








20 


THE THREE BOOKS 


who had lived for many many years in a 
dark corner of Cupboard Street, only com¬ 
ing out on very special days, came quickly 
out of his corner, and such a valentine as he 
cut out! It was the exact shape of a heart, 
and as pretty a one as he had ever cut. 

By this time kind Mrs. Stove, who had 
been listening with eager ears to all that was 
going on, became quite heated up over the 
affair, and offered her oven to help finish the 
valentine. 

Pealey Knife was delighted with the valen¬ 
tine when it was done, but he said it simply 
had to have a verse on it to make it complete. 
So the little Spoon Children put their efforts 
together, and wrote this little verse: 




THE THREE BOOKS 


21 


“Oh Prongey Fork, wherever you stick, 
Stick right by me, or come back quick! 

And though you think me cutting and keen, 
Still do not fail to be my Queen. 

I want you to think of me more and more; 
Remember, Prongey, it’s you I adore!” 

This verse pleased Pealey Knife more than 
ever, and he sent the valentine posthaste to 
the dining room table, where Prongey was 
placed. 

Some folks say it never reached her—that 
before she had a chance to read the little 
verse, a greedy boy gobbled up the valentine. 
But let us hope that is not true. 




THE CHERRY TREE THAT NEVER 
GREW UP 



A STORY FOR WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY 

Once a little Cherry Tree grew in a beau¬ 
tiful orchard in Virginia. It had once been 
a baby seed, dropped into the ground by 
baby fingers, and this is the story it used to 
tell the other trees around it. 

“One day,” the little Cherry Tree began, 
“When I was a big red cherry—before I was 
a tree at all—I was lying on the ground, and 


22 







THE THREE BOOKS 


23 


a little boy with golden curls and a smiling 
face came along. He picked me up and then, 
almost before I knew what had happened, he 
thrust me into a deep red cave. All the 
juicy part of me was eaten, and went down 
a long long tunnel, but the little boy took 
the seed, the only real living part of me, 
out of the red cave. He held me in his hand 
and looked at me. Then he sat down on the 
ground, and stuck me away down into the 
cool brown earth, with his chubby little fin¬ 
gers. He laughed, and then, hearing his 
father calling, he ran away and left me, for¬ 
gotten, in the ground.” 

“ An d then what happened?” the other 
trees asked. They never tired of hearing 
the story of the little Cherry Tree. 




24 


THE THREE BOOKS 


“Well, I was very lonely,” the little Tree 
went on, “But good Mother Earth took care 
of me. The little leaves pitied me, and made 
me a patchwork quilt. King Winter brought 
a snow blanket and laid it over me, and the 
next spring, when the rains and sunshine 
came, I felt a queer feeling within me. I 
wanted to burst, and grow up into the light. 

“After a long time I really did that. I 
pushed my way up and up through the cool 
earth, until, one day, I pushed my head right 
through the ground. And there I was in the 
sunshine once more. 

“You all know the rest. I have been grow¬ 
ing here ever since. I often wonder whether 
that little fellow who plays around here in 
the orchard is the little chap who stuck me 




THE THREE BOOKS 


25 


into the ground. I mean the one who plays 
Indian all day long, and whom the family 
calls ‘George’.” 

And so the trees chatted and swayed, and 
grew, day after day, in that orchard in Vir¬ 
ginia, while a little boy played and, like the 
trees in the orchard, he also grew and grew. 

Now it happened that the boy’s father 
came, from time to time, to see how his 
orchard grew. One day he noticed the little 
Cherry Tree. He saw that it was straight 
and beautiful, and he came to love it best 
of all the trees in the orchard. Sometimes 
he would bring the little boy to sit by its 
low branches. Here he would tell his little 
son George stories of great and brave men. 
And little George listened, and grew to love 




26 


THE THREE BOOKS 


his father’s stories of brave and honest men 
who dared to do right. 

One day the little cherry tree saw the lad 
coming into the orchard alone, swinging a 
bright new hatchet. The boy seemed to be 
looking around for something to chop, and 
before he really noticed what he was doing, 
or what tree it was that he was near, he 
started chopping at the little Cherry Tree. 
“Chip!” went the little hatchet, and “Chip!” 
again. “Chop!” sounded the strokes, and 
“Chop!” again, until the poor little Cherry 
Tree, quivering with fright and pain, lay on 
the ground. 

Just then the boy’s father came into the 
orchard. 

“Who chopped my cherry tree?” he asked, 




T'C 



Cherry Tree, quivering with fright and pain , lay on the ground 

27 


















28 


THE THREE BOOKS 


so harshly that the little boy could scarcely 
believe that it was his kind father who was 
speaking. 

“If I can find the rascal who did this,” 
said George’s father, “I will punish him so 
that he will never forget it!” 

Little George was very much afraid, but 
he remembered the stories of brave men his 
father had told him, right on that very spot, 
and he remembered how his father had often 
said to him, “No matter what happens, be 
brave and always tell the truth.” 

So George stood up bravely before his 
father, and said, “Father, I cannot tell a lie. 
I did it with my little hatchet.” 

George stood there with his eyes down, 
waiting for the punishment that his father 




THE THREE BOOKS 


29 


had said he would give to the one who had 
cut down the Cherry Tree. But instead of 
punishment, he felt his father’s arms around 
him, and heard the kind voice he knew so 
well say: 

“You are a brave lad to dare to tell the 
truth when it was not easy! It was wrong, 
very wrong, to cut down the poor little 
Cherry Tree, but your courage in confessing 
what you did means more to me than a dozen 
cherry trees.” 

And so this is the story of the Little Cherry 
Tree that never grew up. 






WHY ROBIN REDBREAST SINGS AT 
EASTER TIME 



AN EASTER STORY 

There is a beautiful legend translated from 
the Swedish which tells how, when the Lord 
created all things, the Robin was not given 
his red breast, but was told to earn it. 

For thousands of years he and his babies, 
and the babies before them, tried in every 
way to earn red breasts. First they tried 
to redden their breasts with a glow of song, 

30 










THE THREE BOOKS 


31 


but that did no good. Then they fought, 
trying to flame their breasts with the love 
of battle, but that did no good. Their breasts 
remained gray until they almost gave up, 
and were in despair of ever getting red 
breasts. 

One day a Robin did win a red breast 
for himself, and for all the Robins that came 
after him. 

On the day when Christ was crucified, far 
away in Palestine, a little Robin sat in 
sorrow on a hillside outside Jerusalem, and 
saw Jesus suffering on the cross. The 
Robin’s little breast swelled with sadness 
when he saw the crown of thorns placed on 
Christ’s brow, and finally the little bird was 
so filled with pity that, although he had 




32 


THE THREE BOOKS 


never before dared come near anyone, he 
flew round and round the cross until, at last, 

darting down, he pulled a thorn from the 
brow of the dying Christ. As Robin did 
this kind act the blood from the wound made 
by the thorn stained his breast so deeply 
that when he flew away his breast was a 
bright red. When at last he reached his nest 
Robin found that at last he had earned, for 
himself, and for all the Robins, the red 
breasts for which they had always longed. 
From that day to this the Robin has always 
been known as “Robin Redbreast.” 

So, by doing a kind deed, the Robin had 
been able to do what no other Robin had 
been able to do, either through courage in 
battle, or through song. 




THE THREE BOOKS 


33 


But this beautiful legend does not tell us 
what happened to the little Robin after he 
came to his nest, and this is the story of 
why Robin Redbreast sings at Easter time. 

After the Robin returned to his tiny nest 
he wept and wept, yet why he was so sad 
his babies could not understand. 

“Dear Father Redbreast,” said his little 
ones, “Why do you weep? See the beautiful 
red breast you have earned for all the robins. 
We love you so much that we cannot bear 
to see you unhappy.” 

But Robin Redbreast only bowed his head 
lower, and sighed. 

“Why do you weep, dear Robin?” asked 
his little wife. “I am so proud of your red 
breast. Do not weep, but sing for us again.” 




34 


THE THREE BOOKS 


But Robin only wept the more. For two 
nights and one day he sat in his nest and 
was sad. At last the morning of the third 
day dawned, and it was the Sabbath. 

“Will you not be glad today?” asked his 
little wife. “Look! The sun is high in the 
heavens. The air is sweet with perfume. 
The brooks sing, and the sky smiles. Can 
you not be glad and sing?” 

“Dear little wife,” said Robin, as he lifted 
up his head and looked at the beautiful sky. 
“I want you to be happy, although I do not 
think I can ever be happy again. You see, 
when I earned my red breast, I saw a sight 
which made me very sad. I saw the one 
they called Christ dying on the cross, and 




THE THREE BOOKS 


35 


all I could do was to pull out one thorn from 
His brow. I cannot help being sad, dear 
little wife, but I will fly away and try to 
get back a little of happiness, for I cannot 
bear to make you and the baby Robins suffer 
with me. I shall try to come back with a 
lighter heart, and perhaps even a song for 
you.” 

So, over the hillsides and valleys of Jeru¬ 
salem flew Robin Redbreast. Though the 
sky was clear and the sun shone, and the 
brooks sang, Robin was heavy hearted. 
Somehow his little wings led him right back 
to the spot where he had seen Jesus buried. 
But when he reached the place, Lo! the stone 
was rolled away. And when Robin’s little 




36 


THE THREE BOOKS 


black eyes pierced through the darkness, he 
saw Christ, in shining robes of whiteness, 
standing before him. At once the heavy 
sadness left Robin’s breast, and forth from 
his tiny throat there poured a song, and such 
a song! It was a wonderful song of love and 
joy and cheer. Robin sang of life and vic¬ 
tory. Even the angels heard the song, for 
it was a song of heaven itself. 

Back to his tiny nest Robin flew, the song 
of joy still pouring from his throat. Mother 
Robin saw him coming, and chirped her joy. 
And the tiny babies chirped cheerfully to 
greet him. The little nest home was full of 
cheer. 

“Robin is happy again! Robin is singing 





In shining robes of whiteness, 
standing before him 


37 









38 


THE THREE BOOKS 


again!” sang Mother Robin, and all the little 
Robins chirped “Chee! Chee! Chee!” 

“Rejoice and be glad, my loved ones!” 
sang Robin Redbreast. “The dear Christ 
is living. I am no longer sorrowful, for from 
death hath come life. From now on we 
Robins must welcome the glad Easter with 
song. We must sing of the bright flowers 
and budding trees. We must sing darkness 
away, and sing weariness away, and sing 
death itself away. Easter shall be the hap¬ 
piest time of the year for all the Robin Red¬ 
breasts.” 

And from that day to this, whenever 
Easter time is close at hand, the little Rob¬ 
ins far and near gather to sing the glad 




THE THREE BOOKS 


39 


song of spring, and to tell in their song of 
how life comes forth in buds and flowers 
and leaves, as spring takes the place of 
winter. 





THE STORY QUEEN MOON HEARD 


A MEMORIAL DAY STORY 

Once upon a time, upon a bright night, 
Queen Moon was taking a ride across the 
blue heavens. Beside her traveled the little 
Baby Star which she loved best of all, and 
following her were millions of little Stars, 
bearing her train of silver light. 

As Queen Moon rode through the deep blue 
heavens, she looked for the most interesting 
thing she could find on the Earthland. At 

40 






Beside her traveled the little baby star 


41 













42 


THE THREE BOOKS 


last she stopped, and with her stopped the 
Baby Star she loved best, and the million 
little Stars who bore her train of silver light. 

“Look beneath us, dear Baby Star,” said 
Queen Moon. “What are those gleaming 
white stones we see on carpets of green? 
What do the flowers mean, in front of each 
white stone? I think I have never seen so 
many beautiful flowers.” 

“Oh yes, you have, dear Queen,” answered 
the Baby Star, who, although a Baby Star, 
was thousands of years old. “You have for¬ 
gotten. Don’t you remember that just about 
this time, every year, we look down on the 
northern places of that great country called 
the United States, and we see beautiful 
flowers grouped about the white stones on 




THE THREE BOOKS 


43 


the hillsides of green. It seems to me that 
the Breezes told us last year that it was 
because of something called ‘Memorial 
Day’.” 

“I do remember,” answered Queen Moon. 
“And to-night the air is so clear that per¬ 
haps if we listen we may hear more about 
what it all means.” 

So it happened that Queen Moon and the 
Baby Star, and the million little Stars who 
bore Queen Moon’s train of silver light, 
heard this tale which Geranium told to her 
flower friends who had gathered together 
on the green hillside, beside the white stones. 

“You ask me for a story, dear ones,” said 
Geranium. “You ask me why we are gath¬ 
ered here to-night—why we have been taken 




44 


THE THREE BOOKS 


from our homes and kept so carefully, and 
then brought out here, where the dew will 
wash our faces, and the moon make us purer 
and sweeter than ever before. Listen, dear 
flowers, and I will tell you why. 

“More than sixty years ago this country 
we love was going through a great and hor¬ 
rible war. How well I remember my great¬ 
grandmother Geranium telling me the stories 
she heard about it. There was fighting be¬ 
tween the north part of the country and 
the south part of the country. Although 
we do not often think of it now, many brave 
men had to give up their lives for the cause 
of liberty and right. Brave men on both 
sides fought and died. And so, when liberty 
at last was won, the people honored those 




THE THREE BOOKS 


45 


who had fought and died, by agreeing that 
there should be a day, every month of May, 
when the places where the heroes were 
buried, should be made beautiful with 
flowers.” 

Geranium paused for a moment, and then 
went on— 

“So that is why all of us are here, our 
flower people, Mignonettes, Pansies, Roses, 
Sweet Peas, Nasturtiums, Peonies, and 
Heartsease. Should we not be glad to help 
carry out such a beautiful thought?” 

“I am,” whispered a little blue-eyed flower. 
“I will open my eyes wide tomorrow, and 
look into the faces of all the people who 
come to pay honor to the heroes.” 

“And we too shall smile into the faces of 





46 


THE THREE BOOKS 


all who pass,” said the Roses, and all the 
other Flowers. 

“My dears,” said Geranium, “If we do our 
best to brighten the lives of the living, who 
come to honor the dead, we do our parts 
well. Now, let us close our eyes and sleep, 
so that in the morning we may awaken fresh 
and beautiful.” 

Up in the deep blue sky Queen Moon and 
the Star Baby, and the million little Stars 
who bore Queen Moon’s train of silver light, 
moved slowly on, and softly faded from sight. 

Soon King Sun came riding in majesty 
along the same path, and started his work 
of opening the eyes of the willing little flow¬ 
ers and ushering in another Memorial Day. 




CORNFLOWER’S MESSAGE 



A FOURTH OF JULY STORY 

Once upon a time a great many flowers 
lived in a beautiful green field. There were 
the Daisies, dear little white-gowned chil¬ 
dren, wearing quaint yellow caps on their 
heads. There were hundreds of yellow 
Buttercups, nodding their curls in the sun¬ 
light. There were the Wild Grasses, in 

their many shades of green, and there were 
47 



48 


THE THREE BOOKS 


the Cornflowers, wearing their dainty blue 
gowns. 

There in the field they dwelt, in quiet and 
happiness, waving happily through the sunny 
days, and sleeping through the starry nights. 

One morning they awoke to find that 
their quiet home was being upset. They 
heard a noise of tramping feet, and saw 
people carrying baskets. There was shout¬ 
ing and running and jumping. 

“What is happening?” asked Daisy. 

“It is a picnic,” answered Buttercup. 

“Oh, then we must look pretty,” said 
Daisy. “The little children will want to 
play with us.” 

Although Daisy looked very neat in her 
beautiful white dress, and Buttercup tossed 




THE THREE BOOKS 


49 


her golden curls saucily all day long, not a 
child came near to play with them, or pick 
them. 

How badly they felt when they found out 
that the children did not want to play with 
them. Worst of all, some of them were even 
trampled under foot, and their peaceful 
home was turned into a regular battleground. 
The air smelled of smoke, and was full of 
loud noises. Toward evening, when the 
children started to go home, the flowers saw 
that many of the little boys and girls were 
hurt and crying. 

“This is surely a queer sort of holiday,” 
said Cornflower. “Will you tell me who all 
these foreign looking red creatures are that 
the people have thrown among us. They 




50 


THE THREE BOOKS 


look like red Chinamen with their long pig¬ 
tails, and they are lying all over our field. 
What a noise they made, like little claps of 
thunder. Who are these funny creatures?” 

No flower could answer her question, until 
Red Clover saw one little red fellow lying 
right near her, and asked the red stranger 
what it was all about. 

“Little red man, tell me who you are, and 
why did the little boys and girls bring you 
and your brothers here today?” 

It was a tired voice that answered her. 
“We are the Firecracker family. My name 
is Noisy. The American people celebrate 
their Fourth of July with us. They use us 
by the millions, and, worst of all, many folks 
let the little children play with us, and many 





We are the Firecracker family 


51 

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52 


THE THREE BOOKS 


of my brothers are very dangerous, and they 
hurt and burn the little boys and girls. Don’t 
you think that is a queer way to celebrate a 
holiday 1 ?” 

“It is, indeed,” answered Red Clover. “It 
is a queer way for them to celebrate the 
day when their great-great-grandfathers 
signed the Declaration of Independence, 
which made all Americans free.” 

Here Cornflower spoke up. “The trouble 
is,” she said, “that they have the wrong 
idea of independence. They think freedom 
means that they may do anything they 
please, but true liberty really means that 
each one may do anything he or she pleases, 
if it doesn’t hurt anyone. Let me tell you, 
dear Flowers, what I think we can do. Let 




THE THREE BOOKS 


53 



us try to teach these people the real mean¬ 
ing of freedom—the happiness and joy of 
being gentle and thoughtful of others, and 
being careful not to do anything which might 
hurt anybody, not even one’s self. 

“Have you ever thought that we flowers 
have different colors, and that between us 
we have colors enough to form a beautiful 
American flag, which we can spread ever so 







54 


THE THREE BOOKS 


gayly over our field? Then people may 
notice our gentle way of celebrating the 
Fourth of July, and start to copy it. If you 
will all do your part, we will send them a 
message about a safe and sane Fourth of 
July for next year—a Fourth of July when 
there will be beauty and quiet instead of 
noise and danger.” 

“We will be glad to do our part,” said all 
the Flowers. 

“Very well,” said Cornflower, “I’ll give my 
blue for the corner of the flag. And the 
Cloverblossoms will give their red for the 
stripes of red, and the Daisies will give their 
white for the stripes of white, and also for 
the stars in the blue corner of the flag. Then, 
when it is all ready, the breezes will help 




THE THREE BOOKS 


55 


us wave our beautiful flower flag so gayly 
that the people must see and understand our 
message. All the breezes will carry it to 
their hearts, and when they do understand, 
what a beautiful Fourth of July everybody 
will have!” 






JENNY PUMPKIN AND THE 
BLACK WITCH 


A STORY FOR HALLOWE’EN 

Once upon a time there lived, in Field- 
town, many little creatures who wanted, 
more than anything else, to have a good 
time. They were the Pumpkin children, and 
their Grandmother Pumpkin had told them, 
when they had been tiny babies, how many 
of their ancestors, on a certain day of the 
year, are made into lamps that looked like 


56 





THE THREE BOOKS 


57 


human faces, and are put up on poles, on 
mantel pieces, and tables, and had smiled 
down on boys and girls and had made be¬ 
lieve to frighten them, just for fun. So the 
Pumpkin Children, from the very day that 
they were born on the Pumpkin Vine, had 
wanted more than anything else in the world 
to be the ones who would be chosen for the 
great time of Hallowe’en. So all the little 
Pumpkin children in Fieldtown hid away, 
under their vine houses, until the great time 
of Hallowe’en should come. 

Jenny Pumpkin wanted to be a Hallowe’en 
pumpkin more than any of the rest of the 
Pumpkin Children. Imagine how delighted 
she was when, one morning, she and some of 




58 


THE THREE BOOKS 



Carried to a Mg beautiful schoolroom 


her little Pumpkin friends were taken from 
their homes, together with Sammy Field 
Corn, and carried to a big, beautiful school¬ 
room. Here they met a number of the Chest¬ 
nut Family, who had come in from the moun¬ 
tains to help give the children a good time. 

“This is fine!” called Jenny Pumpkin. “I 
am so glad I don’t have to be made into a 





THE THREE BOOKS 


59 


pumpkin pie! Just wait until I get eyes 
and a nose! I’ll glare at you then!” 

“Well! You don’t need to feel so big,” 
said Sammy Field Corn. “Wait until we get 
our green coats off, and have our yellow 
hair pulled back. We’ll grin like alligators!” 

Then, when the great evening arrived, 
Jenny Pumpkin had a wonderful face, all 
smiling and big-eyed. And Sammy Field 
Corn hung high up on the wall over the 
pictures, showing his rows and rows of 
yellow teeth. The little Chestnuts, in from 
the forests, hopped up and down for joy, in 
their brown coats and prickly overcoats. 
For it was Hallowe’en! 

In the afternoon the boys and girls had 
had their Hallowe’en party, and, when the 




60 


THE THREE BOOKS 


shadows began to deepen, they went home, 
leaving the Hallowe’en Field Children by 
themselves in the dark schoolhouse. 

That was the time for fun. The Hallowe’en 
Field children filled the school house with 
noise, until all the million little Stars, and 
the jolly round faced Moon peeped in through 
the windows, to see what was going on. This 
is what they saw: 

Jenny Pumpkin was sitting on the piano, 
speaking a piece, just like a real girl. This 
was the piece she was speaking: 

“’Tis Hallowe’en, but where’s the Witch, yes 
where? 

I really don’t believe that witches fly to-night 
in air. 

Now do you? 

I say again, I don’t believe it’s true.” 




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61 


All the little Chestnuts clapped and 
clapped when she finished, and Sammy Field 
Corn and his brothers laughed so hard that 
their yellow hair fell over their teeth. Just 
then something happened! 

A great black thing appeared, and trailed 
her long black garments slowly over the 
floor! The little Field Children huddled 
down in their corners, they were so afraid 
that they could scarcely speak. 

“A witch!” shrieked Sammy Field Corn. 

“A witch!” echoed his brothers. 

“A black witch!” cried a little brown 
Chestnut. 

“A black witch!” echoed his little brown 
brothers, and they wrapped their prickly 
overcoats closer about themselves. 




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THE THREE BOOKS 


“A real live black witch!” stammered 
Jenny Pumpkin. 

“A real live black witch!” echoed all the 
Pumpkin Children, from the dark corners 
of the room. 

Then they all huddled down, and were as 
quiet as mice, while the great black creature 
slowly crossed the school-room floor. As she 
went, her black body grew longer and longer, 
until it reached almost across the room. She 
did not stop until she came to a jug of sweet 
cider which the boys and girls had left on 
the window-sill. Then, as slowly as she had 
crossed the floor, she went back, growing 
smaller and smaller all the time, until at 
last she quite disappeared. 

“Oh dear!” breathed Jenny Pumpkin, with 





THE THREE BOOKS 


63 


a sigh of relief, “do you think she might come 
back?” 

“She took a drink of the children’s cider,” 
said Sammy Field Corn. “I saw her from 
where I sat on the pictures.” 

All through the long night the Field Chil¬ 
dren quivered and quaked, as they talked in 
whispers of the “Witch.” 

At last morning came. The sun peeped in 
at the schoolhouse windows. The little birds 
began to sing, and the children came back, 
singing and laughing. Not until then did 
Jenny Pumpkin dare to sit up straight on 
the piano, and not until then did the Field 
Corn boys straighten out their long yellow 
silky hair. 

Up in the heavens the round faced jolly 




64 


THE THREE BOOKS 


old moon laughed to himself as he sank down 
behind the hills. 

“Jenny Pumpkin was getting too smart,” 
he said to himself. “I thought a scare might 
do her good. At any rate, Hallowe’en is not 
perfect without a witch, and when it’s dark, 
and when folks are foolish enough to be half 
afraid anyway, my Shadow Man makes a 
pretty good witch.” 





THE PRINCE OF THE KINGDOM 
OF THANKFUL 



A STORY FOR ALL OCCASIONS 

Once there was a very unhappy little boy. 
He was unhappy simply because he was just 
an ordinary boy, just like the boys we see 
every day, who lived in an ordinary street, 
just like many streets, in a home-like house, 
just like many houses. 

The boy had to admit that his father and 
his mother were kind to him, but they, too, 

65 



66 


THE THREE BOOKS 


were just home-like people, such as you meet 
every day. His brothers and sisters were the 
best kind of playmates for him, but they were 
like all the other children with whom he 
played. They, too, were home-like. 

The unhappy little boy was quite discon¬ 
tented, and longed to know someone who 
was “different” as he said. 

“How thankful I should be for a wonder¬ 
ful new friend!” he sighed. 

Now this spirit of discontent had been 
born in the boy while his mother read fairy 
tales to him, as they sat by their warm fire on 
cold winter evenings. John (for that was 
the name of the unhappy little boy) grew 
more and more eager to know people who 
were like those in the fairy books—real 




THE THREE BOOKS 


67 


princes, perhaps, who lived in marvelous 
castles by the sea. 

“The princes of the fairy stories—THEY 
must be so happy and thankful,” he said to 
himself, “because they live in such wonder¬ 
ful places and have such unusual things hap¬ 
pen to them.” 

All this was why, one night, when a beau¬ 
tiful fairy came to him in a dream-boat, he 
decided to go with her. 

“Come, John,” said the beautiful fairy to 
the boy, “we will sail away to the Kingdom 
of Thankful. It is a marvelous land, and 
there you shall find a Prince. Perhaps you 
may even make him your friend.” 

John was very glad to start on this journey. 
His pulse beat quick and his eyes glowed. 




68 


THE THREE BOOKS 


At last he was to find a Prince who lived in 
a wonderful palace beside the sea; a Prince, 
no doubt, with fine clothes and many serv¬ 
ants. 

While he was thinking about how fine this 
would be, the dream-boat drew up along the 
shores of the Kingdom of Thankful. 

John looked about him as he stepped on 
the sands of the shore. The roads looked 
just the same as the roads at home; some of 
them were smooth and some were stony. The 
skies were just the same as the skies at 
home; in places they were blue, and in other 
places they were cloudy. The trees, too, 
were like the trees he had always seen; some 
were full of blossoms, while others were just 
bare. The meadows were just ordinary 

















John looked about him 

69 
















70 


THE THREE BOOKS 


meadows, too; most of them were green, but 
here and there, John noticed there were dry 
yellow fields where no living thing grew. In 
fact, all the country looked quite “ordinary.” 

As John journeyed further into the land, 
he fotnid that the people were just like the 
people at home. Some of them were red 
cheeked, and bright eyed, while others were 
thin and pale and sickly. Some wore fine 
clothes, and others wore clothes which were 
patched and ragged. The only difference 
between the people here, and the people at 
home was that here everyone wore a thank¬ 
ful, happy look. As John noticed this, he 
tried to hide behind the skirts of the beauti¬ 
ful Fairy, so that none of these happy ones 
should see his unhappy face. 




THE THREE BOOKS 


71 


At last John asked the Fairy the reason 
for the happiness of these people. “Why are 
all the faces so bright in this kingdom? I 
see nothing here over which to be so happy.” 

And the Fairy answered, “They are happy, 
my boy, because they have found that for 
which they searched. But now, John, you 
must find the Prince of this kingdom.” 

“How shall I know him?” asked the boy. 

“You must hunt alone until you find him. 
When you have found him you will know 
him.” 

So the boy started on his search. He wan¬ 
dered up and down, here and there, over 
mountains and valleys, all over the entire 
kingdom. He met many whom he thought 
might be the Prince, for they wore fine 





72 


THE THREE BOOKS 


clothes, and looked very princely. But each 
time that he asked the question, “Are you 
the Prince of the Kingdom of Thankful?” he 
received the same answer, “You must find 
some one else. I am not worthy of that great 
title.” 

At last, when John had almost given up 
his search for the Prince of the Kingdom of 
Thankful, he came to a lowly cottage. There 
was only one room in the cottage, and a bed 
and a table and a fireplace were the only 
things in that room. There was no mother 
there, nor any father there, only a boy of 
twelve, and his old blind Aunt. 

John stopped, and looked with pity at the 
boy in the poor cottage, for he saw that the 
lad was lame. He noticed with wonder that 




THE THREE BOOKS 


73 


the lame boy’s face shone with joy and hap¬ 
piness! John could scarcely believe his 
eyes! 

“What have you to make you so happy?” 
John asked him. 

“Why shouldn’t I be happy?” replied the 
lame boy, with the most beautiful and hap¬ 
piest smile in the world, “I am thankful that 
I have something to eat when I am hungry, 
a cot to lie on at night when I am tired, a 
fire to keep me warm when the cold winds 
blow, and, best of all, a good kind Aunt! I 
am thankful that she can walk about, when 
I cannot, and that she can in this way be my 
legs for me, and that I can be her eyes, when 
her own eyes are too dim to see things 
clearly. Then I am thankful that Gfod lets 




74 


THE THREE BOOKS 


the birds sing for me, and the flowers smile 
at me. I am thankful that I have eyes to 
see them. I am thankful that God has given 
me playmates—the rabbits that run about 
my door, and field mice that come running 
through the cracks in the wall, and squirrels 
that run over our roof. With all these things, 
I have a wonderful kingdom—why shouldn’t 
I be happy and thankful?” 

John looked at the lad in wonder, and, as 
he looked, suddenly he saw that there was a 
golden crown upon the lame boy’s head! 

When John saw this, he understood at 
last that he was in the presence of the real 
Prince of the Kingdom of Thankful. He 
understood then why the little lame boy had 
been made the Prince. And John grew very, 




THE THREE BOOKS 


75 


very much ashamed of himself. He wanted 
to go right back home to his mother and 
father and sisters and brothers, in the town 
he had thought so common and ordinary. 
He knew that he was not worthy to play 
with the Prince he now had found, because 
he had never been thankful at all when he 
had so much more to be thankful for than 
the Prince had ever had. As he longed for 
the ones he loved, and for the home he was 
beginning to love, a wonderful feeling of 
thankfulness went over John; and deep, 
deep into his heart. He was so thankful for 
all of them—for his good mother, and his 
kind father, and his merry sisters and broth¬ 
ers— a ii those ordinary people who were his 
very very own. And when he thought about 




76 


THE THREE BOOKS 


how he had never before been thankful, but 
had always been discontented and unhappy, 
he was so ashamed that he stood with his 
eyes on the ground. 

It was then that John heard the Prince 
speak to him. “I see,” said the Prince, in 
the most wonderful, gentlest voice in the 
world, “I see that you are ready to become a 
dweller in my kingdom. Will you stop and 
play with me for awhile T’ 

When John looked up, with thankful eyes, 
everything about the lame lad was changed. 
The Prince was clothed in shining garments, 
and there behind him, instead of the poor 
cottage, was a wonderful castle, and inside 
the castle the Prince’s kind old Aunt looked 
like a beautiful queen. Suddenly John knew 









































78 


THE THREE BOOKS 


'that it was the love and thankfulness which 
had come into his own heart that had made 
all these things seem as beautiful to him as 
they did to the Prince of the Kingdom of 
Thankful. John also knew that never again 
would any of his own people, or anything 
in his life, seem common or ordinary to him. 





STRUTTY GOBBLER 



A THANKSGIVING STORY 


Once upon a time a great many turkeys 

lived in Barnyard Village. There were 

mother turkeys and father turkeys, and little 

baby turkeys, all eating their food together, 

and drinking at the same tin pan fountain. 
79 


80 


THE THREE BOOKS 


Now, among these turkeys, lived Strutty 
Gobbler. Strutty was so proud that he would 
scarcely look at the other turkeys in the 
barnyard. He strutted and gobbled and gob¬ 
bled and strutted, up and down Barnyard 
Village, keeping close to the fence so that 
his feathers and his gobble and his strut 
could be admired by the people who came 
every day to see the turkeys. 

“Come away from that fence, Strutty,” his 
mother, who was an old and sensible turkey 
hen, would say. “It’s never a good plan to 
make people look at you too much. Don’t 
you want to live to a good old age?” 

“Why, of course I do, Mother,” said 
Strutty. “And of course I will. Just see 
how big and strong and healthy I am!” 




THE THREE BOOKS 


81 


“My dear son,” said his mother, “I have 
lived longer than you have. I know the 
world. If you want to live long and happily 
in Barnyard Village, you must not be seen 
too much. It’s a bad habit, this wanting to 
be admired, a very bad habit indeed. You 
must learn not to show off in front of those 
bigger and higher up in the world than you 
are.” 

“Nonsense,” answered Strutty. “These 
common ordinary turkeys don’t appreciate 
me, but those fine men and women and chil¬ 
dren outside the fence think I am a won¬ 
derful fellow. The bigger and fatter and 
healthier I look, the more they admire me, 
and the more I gobble and strut, the more 
they smile. That is why I eat corn and lie 




82 


THE THREE BOOKS 


in the sun and sleep, and try to be as hand¬ 
some as possible. Then, when I see people 
coming, I strut and gobble, until they smile 
and look at each other, and say, ‘What a fine 
bird! What a fine bird!’” 

So, no matter how much his mother 
pleaded, and no matter how much his aunts 
and uncles talked, Strutty kept on showing 
off whenever people from the farm-house 
came down to Barnyard Village. 

At last the summer was over, and autumn 
came, with its falling leaves and whispering 
breezes. The leaves and the breezes felt 
sorry for Strutty, and tried to warn him. 
“Be careful, Strutty!” they would say. 
“Keep in the background!” 






Strutty Kept on showing off 


83 














84 


THE THREE BOOKS 


One day, a few small snowflakes came skip¬ 
ping through the air. 

“Be careful, Strutty!” the Snowflakes whis¬ 
pered. “Thanksgiving day is nearly here.” 

“Why should I be careful because Thanks¬ 
giving day is coming?” asked Strutty. 

“Because Thanksgiving is the day when 
the fine people may want you, Strutty. They 
may take away your fine feathers and your 
gobble and strut,” answered the Snowflakes. 
His mother, and his aunts and cousins had 
told him the same thing. 

“Nonsense,” answered Strutty, who by this 
time was so proud of his fine looks, because 
of the admiration he had received from the 
farm house people, that there was no room 
in his little body for common sense. “They 




THE THREE BOOKS 


85 


may want me for their feast, to decorate their 
table, but they would never take away my 
line feathers and my noble strut. They ad¬ 
mire me far too much for that.” 

Alas for vain Strutty! Thanksgiving Day 
dawned on Barnyard Village, much as other 
days had dawned, but there was no proud 
Strutty there to gobble his welcome to the 
dawn of the great day. His poor mother 
and sisters, who had grown thin worrying 
over him, were there, but scattered around 
Barnyard Village were the feathers which 
had been Strutty’s pride. 

As for Strutty himself? In a long dining 
room of the sunny farm house was gathered 
a large family. At the head of the table sat 
Father, at the foot of the table sat Mother, 




86 


THE THREE BOOKS 


and on each side were children and grand¬ 
children. 

On top of the table, in the most conspicu¬ 
ous place of all, was Strutty, upside down 
and without his fine feathers, and with his 
gobble gone forever. He was fat and brown 
and bulging with wonderful filling. All the 
children cried, “What a beautiful turkey!” 

This time vain Strutty could not show’ 
how much he liked their admiration. He 
could no longer flash his eye and shake his 
fine feathers. 





HOW THE GNOMES TRIED TO STOP 
THANKSGIVING 


It was almost Thanksgiving, and all the 
little Gnomes who dwelt in the Castle of 
Selfishness disliked Thanksgiving. When 
the leaves fluttered down from the trees 
and tumbled cheerfully over the ground, 
these Gnomes sighed, because they knew 
then that Thanksgiving was coming. When 
North Wind came peeping around the north¬ 
west corner of the Hills, whistling “I’ll beat 

87 




88 


THE THREE BOOKS 


any fellow a race down the valley!” the 
Gnomes shivered, for then they were sure 
Thanksgiving was coming. When a few 
white-clad little snow children came hurry¬ 
ing and scurrying from the grey-black house 
of Mother Cloud up in Skyland, the Gnomes 
wept, because they knew then that Thanks¬ 
giving must he very very near. And they 
all hated Thanksgiving! 

“I do wish we were not American 
Gnomes!” they grumbled. “If we were not 
American Gnomes we would not have to 
put up with this Thanksgiving business. It’s 
a direct insult to King Self, our ruler.” 

“Perhaps we can do something to spoil it,” 
said Gnome Discontent. “I have a plan! 
Let’s send a few busy Gnomes to and fro 




THE THREE BOOKS 


89 


over the earth, and have them find one thou¬ 
sand unthankful people, and get them to 
help us spoil Thanksgiving. If as many as 
one thousand unthankful boys and girls work 
with us, it will be impossible to have another 
Thanksgiving in America.” 

“I agree,” said Gnome Envy. “But I 
think we had better send only one, and I 
think the best one would be Gnome Thank¬ 
less-Heart. He can find unthankful souls if 
anyone can.” 

All the Gnomes thought the plan was so 
good that they sent Gnomes Envy and Dis¬ 
content to King Self, who was seated on his 
throne in the Castle of Selfishness, which was 
built by the side of the black river called 

“Never-Consider-the-Other-F ellow.” 




90 


THE THREE BOOKS 



*‘A very excellent idea” 


“A very excellent idea!” exclaimed King 
Self, rubbing his bands together. “Most ex¬ 
cellent indeed! If Thankless-Heart can find 
one thousand thankless boys and girls, with 
their aid we can strike Thanksgiving a great 
blow!” 








THE THREE BOOKS 


91 


So Gnome Thankless-Heart started out. 
He traveled miles and miles through the 
dark cold nights, and always, as he went, he 
called to the little Nature Folk about him 
for help. 

“Come, little Leaves,” he cried. “Help me 
to find a thousand boys and girls. They must 
be boys and girls who are thinking so much 
about themselves that they will forget to be 
thankful.” 

The little Leaves said “Oh no! We are too 
busy being happy.” 

Then he called to North Wind, “Come, 
North Wind, help me find a thousand boys 
and girls who are thinking so much about 
themselves that they cannot be thankful. 

North Wind only laughed a blustery kind 




92 


THE THREE BOOKS 


of laugh, and said “O’ho! Not I, sir! I am 
running a race tonight with Jack Frost. I’m 
far too busy, even if I wanted to help you 
on such an evil errand.” 

Then Thankless-Heart called to the little 
Snow-flakes, but they, too, only danced on 
their way and refused to help. “Not we!” 
they said. “Unselfish, thankful children are 
the only kind we ever play with!” 

So Gnome Thankless-Heart saw that he 
would have to do all the work him self. 

He decided to try the poor children first. 
“For,” said he, “they have nothing for which 
to be thankful. “They haven’t good clothes, 
pretty homes, or fine food. I can soon gather 
together a thousand poor children who are 
unthankful.” 





He decided to try the poor children first 

93 



























































































94 


THE THREE BOOKS 


But although he crept into home after 
home, and sometimes found some little chap 
who thought he was not as well blest as the 
rest, he could find only ten poor little chil¬ 
dren who were unthankful. As he crept 
away, discouraged, he heard merry voices 
singing: 

“We live and we love; 

We have food, and fresh air. 

Though we haven’t fine clothes, 

We really don’t care.” 

“They’re a queer lot,” grumbled Thankless- 
Heart. “I suppose it is because they are so 
healthy. I’ll try the little sick children next, 
and the children who are lame or blind.” 

So he crept into all the hospitals, into one 





THE THREE BOOKS 


95 


little bed after another, and tried his best 
to find thankless boys and girls, but after 
days and days of hard work he had only ten 
more boys and girls toward making up his 
list of one thousand. As he crept away from 
the homes of the sick and the lame and the 
blind, he heard the voices of the sick chil¬ 
dren singing: 

“Why should we unthankful be? 

We have many friends, you see.” 

“Well, well, well!” said Gnome Thankless- 
Heart. “This IS tiresome work! I have no 
one left to try but those who have everything, 
and what’s the use of trying them? If the 
poor and the sick and the lame and the blind 
are happy and thankful, and unselfish, I’m 




96 


THE THREE BOOKS 


sure the rich must be too. I’m afraid I’ll 
have to give up!” 

So over the hills, back home he went, and 
silently he crept into the Castle of Selfish¬ 
ness. He was not at all anxious to be seen, 
but Gnome Discord, who was always sneak¬ 
ing about and looking around to see if he 
could find trouble, or make trouble, soon 
espied Thankless-Heart. 

“What luck?” asked Gnome Discord. 

Gnome Thankless-Heart hung his head. 

All the Gnomes, who had crowded about, 
guessed that he had failed, and they began 
to dance up and down with rage and dis¬ 
appointment. “You don’t mean to tell us 
that we’ll have to have another Thanksgiving 




THE THREE BOOKS 


97 


in America!” shouted the Gnomes, when they 
heard his story. “You surely found a thou¬ 
sand boys and girls who were selfish and 
unthankful. 

“I found only twenty!” said Thankless- 
Heart, faintly. “And you fellows could have 
done no better. They are a queer lot, those 
boys and girls. They are thankful for the 
slightest things. I tried every poor home 
and hospital in all the land.” 

“How about the rich children?” questioned 
the Gnomes. 

“Well, I believe I couldn’t have found 
nearly as many there. I looked through the 
windows of the rich children’s homes as I 
passed by, and such games, and pretty 




98 


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clothes, and fine food as I saw! Why, they 
must be the most thankful children in the 
world!” 

Discontent smiled unpleasantly, Discord 
shrugged his shoulders, and one and all of 
the Gnomes looked at each other crossly. 

“He might have found more had he stopped 
in just those places he passed by,” they said. 

“I don’t believe it!” Gnome Thankless- 
Heart snapped back. “At any rate, it’s too 
late to go back. It is just twelve o’clock, 
Thanksgiving eve—and I’m sleepy and tired 
out. I’m going to wrap myself in my blanket 
of Complaint, or I’ll be wanting a turkey 
bone myself! One thousand thankless chil¬ 
dren, indeed!” 




THE STAR ANGEL 



A CHRISTMAS STORY 

Long, long ago all the twinkling Stars of 
Skyland were having a holiday. It was a 
beautiful night, so bright that one of the 
tiniest stars thought that he had made a mis¬ 
take, and that he had come out in the day¬ 
time. As he looked about him he saw Mother 
Moon on her throne, smiling a happy smile, 
and then he knew it was really night, and 
that he had made no mistake. 

99 





100 


THE THREE BOOKS 


All the stars were twinkling merrily. In 
all Skyland there could not be found one 
unhappy star. 

“This is a w T onderful night,” said Venus, 
the brightest star of all. “The most wonder¬ 
ful night I have ever seen. Look down upon 
Judea’s hills. Do you see the loving shep¬ 
herds keeping watch over their flocks? Then 
look toward the east, and notice that strange 
moving caravan. I think they are wise men 
from the East. Do you see how they seem 
to be looking up into our own Skyland? The 
very air to-night seems full of mystery.” 

“I feel exactly as if something were going 
to happen,” said little Brightpoints. 

“So do I,” said Merry Twinkler, “and it 




THE THREE BOOKS 


101 


must be something very wonderful, for I feel 
like singing all the time.” 

Suddenly Mother Moon leaned far over 
and gazed into the east. 

“Look, Children, am I right? I seem to 
see the most beautiful star I have ever seen. 
It is coming out of the east, a strange star, 
I think, which has never come before to the 
blue meadows of Skyland. It seems to me 
I see all the sky fairies in their cloud chariots 
moving back to make room for her.” 

The little stars looked toward the east. It 
was indeed true. There they saw a most 
beautiful Star, shining like a great diamond. 
On, on the Star came, with thousands of 
little star followers in her train. 




102 


THE THREE BOOKS 


“Who can she be?” asked Mother Moon. 
“She is far, far brighter even than onr Yenus. 
She is brighter than all of us shining ones put 
together. Who can she be?” 

Breathlessly the little Stars watched from 
their sky homes. They saw the Wise Men 
hurrying across the desert, their eyes always 
upon the wonderful star, their path always 
following where she lead. On, on the Star 
came, until she reached a spot from which 
she could look directly down upon the hill¬ 
sides of Judea, where the gentle shepherds 
were watching their sleeping flocks. There, 
in the midst of the many, many twinkling 
stars, she stood still, and with her bright 
beams pointed directly below her. 

“Who are you, beautiful stranger,” mur- 




THE THREE BOOKS 


103 



“I am God’s Star Angel” 


mured all the little twinkling Stars and 
fixed Stars, and Mother Moon and the Sky 
Fairies added, “And why have you come to 
visit us?” 

“I am indeed a stranger,” said the beautiful 
one, “I am God’s Star Angel.” 







104 


THE THREE BOOKS 


“A star angel!” said the little Stars. “How 
wonderful! Why did you hurry across the 
sky, and then so suddenly stop, and point 
downward to the shepherds and to the sleep¬ 
ing town nearby? We see only what we 
see every night—the sleeping fathers and 
mothers and babies, and the gentle shep¬ 
herds watching their flocks.” 

“It is because you do not have the eyes of 
faith,” replied the Star Angel. “I will pray 
to God to give the eyes of faith to you for a 
moment, so that you may see as I see.” 

Suddenly the little Stars felt a wonderful 
peace come to them, a peace that passed all 
their understanding. Mother Moon in awe 
covered her face with her cloud mantle. 

Then the Stars saw a stable, bare and rude. 





In a bed of hay, lay a baby 

105 






















































106 


THE THREE BOOKS 


and with their new and keener sight they 
were able to see right inside. There, among 
the cattle, in a bed of hay, lay a baby—the 
most wonderful and blessed baby that ever 
was born on earth. Never had the Stars, in 
all their long night watches, stood guard over 
such a one! For the whole world was to wor¬ 
ship as its Heavenly Prince the little babe 
that now lay with smiling face on its bed of 
hay in the lowly stable. 

“It is enough,” said Mother Moon. “God 
has been very good to us this holy night.” 

No sooner had she spoken than down 
through Skyland came the sound of rustling 
wings. The little Stars saw a host of angels, 
with beautiful gauzy wings, which were 
never before seen either on earth or in the 




THE THREE BOOKS 


107 


blue meadows of the sky. The watching 
shepherds, too, gazed in breathless wonder 
as these winged angels filled the air with 
music, and these were the words they sang: 
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good will toward men!” 

Then one bright-winged angel told the 
shepherds the wonderful story of a new born 
king, which was Christ the Lord. 

As the song ended, the shining angels rose 
into the great beyond, guided by the blazing 
star. Once again Mother Moon and all the 
million Baby Stars were left alone in the 
meadows of Skyland. 

Down below, on the earth, the people slept 
on. The sheep were still on the hillsides, 
although some of the shepherds were now 




108 


THE THREE BOOKS 


finding their way to the tiny stable to wor¬ 
ship the new king of whom the angels had 
sung. Outside the stable door the Wise Men 
left the camels on which they had come from 
far distant countries in the east, after they 
had taken from the camels’ backs the 
precious gifts which they had brought to 
give to the Holy Babe. 

“Good night, children,” said Mother Moon 
to the Stars, as the first light of the dawn ap¬ 
peared. “We will never again have such a 
night as this, for we have seen the Baby King 
of Kings, and have helped to celebrate the 
First Christmas.” 




THE STORY OF BABY GRETEL 



A CHRISTMAS STORY 


Baby Gretel was just a little wooden doll 
made in Dollland. She really could not 
remember the first part of her life; all she 
could remember was that she was “modeled,” 
that was it—she had just been “made.” 

One day one of the workmen brought his 

109 


110 


THE THREE BOOKS 


little girl to the doll factory to see the dolls 
before they were sent away. As soon as 
Baby Gretel caught a glimpse of the round 
little face of the little girl, a great longing 
came into the doll’s heart. She knew she 
could love that little girl. “I wish she could 
be my mother,” Baby Gretel, the doll, said. 

The little girl soon went away, and not 
long after Baby Gretel was packed in a box 
and sent away with thousands of other dolls. 
She did not know where she was going, but 
she traveled on and on, as she lay in the hold 
of the boat she knew that she must be cross¬ 
ing an ocean, for she could hear the waves 
beating against the steel sides of the boat, 
and she could feel the motion as the ship 
rolled and pitched on the water. As Baby 




THE THREE BOOKS 


111 


Gretel traveled she dreamed of the face of 
the little foreign girl she had loved. 

One day Baby Gretel was awakened by a 
great noise and clatter. The ship had 
stopped; then the noise of the machinery of 
the boat was quiet; they had reached the 
other side of the ocean. The box Baby Gretel 
was packed in was lifted out of the hold of 
the ship, and was hauled away to a store¬ 
house, and afterwards to a great store, where 
the box was unpacked, and where Baby 
Gretel was placed on a counter, to be sold. 

Strange people who came into the store 
looked at her, and handled her, and talked 
about her. She found herself on the counter 
together with many other strange dolls, 
French and Dutch and Japanese and Ameri- 




112 THE THREE BOOKS 



No doll could understand the language of the others 


can dolls. There was quite a clatter all 
around when the different dolls started talk¬ 
ing, as no doll could understand the language 
of the others. 

Baby Gretel listened carefully to the talk 
of the people who came in to see the dolls, 
and to the conversation of the other dolls, 
and at last she understood that she was in 






THE THREE BOOKS 


113 


America, and that it was almost Christmas 
time. 

One day a great clatter arose in the doll 
section of the store. One of the dolls had 
overheard that there was a great and terrible 
war being waged in the lands from which 
they had come. 

“Dear me, we should be very glad that we 
are in America!” one of the dolls exclaimed. 

While Baby Gretel was still thinking about 
this, a dear little American girl came to the 
doll counter, and picked her up, and at once 
Baby Gretel loved this little American girl 
almost as much as she had loved the little 
foreign girl. 

“I want this dolly, Mother,” said the little 
American girl, as she looked at Baby Gretel, 




114 


THE THREE BOOKS 


and petted and cuddled her in her arms. “I’d 
like to send this dolly to some little girl over 
there in the war land. See, the dolly is 
marked Made in Dollland! I’m sorry for 
the little foreign girls, because they have to 
get along with so little, and haven’t any 
money to buy dollies with.” 

So the little girl’s mother bought Baby 
Gretel, and for days and weeks the little 
girl played with the doll and sewed dresses 
for her. While Baby Gretel lived in the little 
girl’s home Christmas time came, and the 
doll heard all about the wonderful Christ 
Child who came to the earth on the first 
Christmas day, to comfort the sorrowing, and 
to bring love into people’s lives, instead of 
misery. 




mm 




The little girl played with the doll 

115 















































































116 


THE THREE BOOKS 


Then came the parting. With many 
kisses, and a few tears, the doll was packed 
in a box, with a cheery Christmas note of 
love, and started on her way to a little girl 
whose home had been made sorrowful by 
the great war. 

So Baby Gretel traveled back again, over 
the deep waters. And when she reached the 
end of her journey, she saw a land very dif¬ 
ferent from America. The big factories were 
not filled with busy industry; the children 
did not sing and dance happily. This made 
Baby Gretel sorrowful, until the day when 
she was given to a sad-eyed little girl. As 
Baby Gretel looked up into the face of her 
new little mistress, the doll saw at once that 
it was the changed face of the little friend 




THE THREE BOOKS 


117 


she had only seen once, but whom she 
had never forgotten—the blue-eyed, golden- 
braided little girl of her own country. 

“My dearest!” the little girl sobbed, “I am 
so happy to have you!” She clasped the doll 
close to her. “This war has been so terrible!” 
she sighed. 

As Baby Gretel lay in the arms of her 
dear new-found mother, the doll tried to 
give the little foreign girl the message of 
the Christmas time, which she had learned 
in her American home, and tried to tell the 
little girl whom war had saddened the mess¬ 
age of “Peace on earth, good will to men.” 




THE THREE BELLS 


A NEW YEAR STORY 

Once upon a time three Bells lived in a 
high steeple. They loved their quiet home 
beneath the clear blue sky. It was restful 
up there; no hurrying, no scurrying, no rush¬ 
ing about. Through all the week they did 
nothing but look at the beautiful sky, and 
rest. 

On the Sabbath day they worked. Joy¬ 
fully and lovingly they worked, calling the 

people to service. When the sun would 
118 





THE THREE BOOKS 


119 


— 

- 

come up over the hills, they would ring out 
this message: “Sabbath day! Sabbath day! 
Come to church!” 

They rang so clearly that for miles around 
the people heard, and stopped their hurry¬ 
ing, or thinking about schools and offices, 
work and money, and said “It is the Sabbath. 
Let us go and worship.” 

Then, after the bells had given their mess¬ 
age of the Sabbath morning, they would be 
quiet until the vesper hour, when they would 
send another invitation over hill and valley: 
“Day is done. Come to church and thank 
God for this day, this day of rest and peace.” 

I And once more the people, hearing, would 
obey, and be blessed. 

So the three Bells lived, happy in their 





120 


THE THREE BOOKS 


work of calling the people to church on the 
Sabbath. 

But, one day, one of the bells became dis¬ 
contented. 

“I don’t want to work!” he said. “I don’t 
like to live up here, away from the world. 
I am tired of the way I live, and the way I 
have to work!” 

“Be careful,” answered one of his com¬ 
panions. “I dare not let my clapped tongue 
say such things. It might spoil the sweet¬ 
ness of my tone.” 

“Don’t complain,” said the third Bell. “I 
rest well, and never complain, so that my 
tones shall always be clear and loud and 
strong.” 

But the third hell sighed all the more. 




THE THREE BOOKS 


121 


“Nothing to do! Nothing to look at but 
the sky!” 



“You will spoil your sweetness,” said his 
brothers, “if you complain so much.” 














122 


THE THREE BOOKS 


“I don’t want sweetness. There is no 
one to care anyhow.” 

“Give your sweetness to the people,” an¬ 
swered his brothers. “They will care.” 

“People!” the discontented Bell replied. 
“Why should I give sweetness to the people?” 

Now the weather grew colder and colder, 
and soon the snowflakes whirled around the 
belfry, telling of Christmas and the New 
Year. 

“Brother,” said the two happy Bells to 
the discontented, unhappy Bell. “If you try 
you can start a fresh New Year, with your 
tones sweet and clear. Then you will do a 
great deal of good.” 

“What good will a New Year do me,” 
growled the unhappy Bell. “I’ll have to 




THE THREE BOOKS 


123 


hang forever in this old tower. New Year, 
indeed!” 

“We should all ring together,” said his 
brothers to him. 

“Not I! I for one shall not ring,” answered 
the discontented Bell. “I am tired of ring¬ 
ing. I shall not ring! I shall not ring!” 

Then the New Year’s morning dawned. 
The snow glistened and the ice glittered like 
diamonds on the belfry tower. The two good 
bells awoke with happy hearts. 

“It’s New Year!” they cried. “And we 
must ring!” And gladly, joyfully, over the 
hills and valleys, rang out the Bells’ message 
of a glad New Year. 

The third Bell was silent. “I shall not 
ring! I shall not ring!” 




124 


THE THREE BOOKS 


That night a great wind arose. It swung 
the Bells to and fro in their home in the 
belfry. From the two happy Bells came a 
beautiful song of joy in the New Year. Out 
over the countryside the wind carried their 
message through the night, and the people 
awoke from their sleep, and rejoiced to hear 
the voice of the Bells. 

The third Bell was silent, for as the wind 
had blown the Bells to and fro, he had re¬ 
fused to ring, and the wind had blown his 
clapper tongue out of his mouth! 

From that day to this the unwilling Bell 
has never been able to ring out a single 
sound. Up there in the old belfry he hangs, 
useless and forlorn. His coat is rusty, and 
it is now said that soon he is going to be 




THE THREE BOOKS 


125 


taken from his place, and sold for old iron. 

The two willing Bells ring in the New 
Year every glad season, and on Sabbath 
days they still call the people over the hills 
and valleys, to leave their homes and come 
to worship. 







BIRDS V FEATHER 
STORIES 


(THE CHEERFUL BOOK OF BRAVE BIRDS 


Stp ries, Little Bird Stpries 



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PUBLISHERS ========== _ 

/JUST RIGHT BOOKS ) 

Albert Whitman & Company 


CHI CAGO, I/.S.A, 


FIFTY 

FAMOUS SKY STORIES 


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THE. 

NORTHLAND 
BIRD **• LIFE 

The GoldenLoof^^rtic Birds 

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AUTHOR, OF- STRAHGE LA1HD • BIR.D • LIFE, 
THE ■ DINnEI^-THAT-AL^AVS • THERE. 

» LITTLE BO V FRAHCE. ETC 



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